Today’s shift is eventful. We have 6 level 4 patients; q1 monitoring, with dropping O2 saturations, and lots of other problems, we have 52 patients now (including those 6 critical patients), and last but not the least, I managed to accidentally hit my face with a wrench.
Yes. A wrench.
It’s the same as how your phone succumbs to gravity when you’re lying on your bed. I was changing oxygen tanks (we don’t have those centralized oxygen things, sorry) and being my tall self, I was only at eye level with the gauge. Then there was this guy thinking that I don’t know my way around a wrench, so I tried to prove him wrong , because I know my shit around mechanical stuff. So I loosened the claw part thing, then it slipped on the nut, because I forgot to readjust it.
It doesn’t hurt that bad, but it looks like I’ve been involved in a fist fight.
Oh and I never did prove that person wrong, which pisses me off. He does mean well though, I mean in a fatherly sort of way. I was just pissed because he is not my father. And maybe I just miss my father.